Work Text:
Portsmouth, UK - July 1940.
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The evacuation of Dunkirk had been hard for the soldiers involved. A lot of service men hadn't made it home. It was brutal.
Tom was one of the lucky ones. He had been picked up by a civilian boat that had come from England across to France to help collect the British soldiers. This however, didn't mean it was all over for him. He was now having to deal with the aftermath of war and what he witnessed before trying to survive on wreckage for 2 days. The nightmares, the trauma, the fear, everything that came with it.
Although the term Shell-Shock was no longer allowed to be used in British Army, it was clear that was what Tom was suffering from. People often now referred to it as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
It had only been 4 weeks since he had returned back on English soil, his wife noticed the change in him and it scared her to the point she chose to take break, forcing him to move back to his parents, making Tom feel even worse about life, than he already did. His parents, especially his father, were pretty harsh on getting him to see someone, but Tom refused to accept he needed help. It was still raw and thought maybe things would settle down.
His coping mechanisms he chose were not the best way to try and deal with it though. Alcohol.
Tom was often down the local pub which was situated not too far from Lord Nelsons Ship, The HMS Victory, which Tom loved. The ship was set to become a tourist sight.
Slouched at the bar, he was on his third glass of Whiskey. He didn't really speak to anyone, although, whenever anything about the war was mentioned, he became very tense and sometimes he'd argue when people said the wrong thing about it.
Knocking back the Whiskey, Tom placed the glass down on the bar a little too heavy, causing an audible clunk between the bar and the glass. "Easy, Soldier" the bartender spoke noting the force of the clunk.
"I am not, a fu-fucking soldier" he hissed. "Not anymore.."
Giving a small sigh, the bartender took the glass from the bar, to be washed. "You should be going home, don't want your mother down here looking for you again, son" he spoke softly as he watched the tipsy man rise to his feet slowly. Tom grabbed his hat, and placed it on his head before sighing and nodded to the bartender and made his way out slowly, passing the table of older men who were playing Dominoes.
Reaching outside, he gave a heavy sigh into the warm air. Height of Summer and the nights were quite warm so there was no need for coat. Walking by the HMS Victory he smiled up at her and gave a nod before he proceeded to walk home, hoping that his parents were asleep so the twenty questions wouldn't be fired at him.